know how it’s done, Grace.’
‘You have been thorough.’
‘I didn’t need to look that up on the Internet,’ he said, his face grim now.
‘No? Well, know this. Since I was here, living under the same roof, it made perfect sense to give Posie the very best start possible.’
‘Did it? And whose idea was that? The whole breast is best thing.’
‘Does it matter?’ He didn’t answer, just waited for her to tell him what he already believed he knew. And, infuriatingly, she couldn’t deny it. ‘Phoebe would never have asked.’
‘No, I didn’t think it was her idea. So how long had you planned to stretch it out, Grace? Six, nine months? Or were you planning to be one of those earth-mother types—?’
‘That’s enough!’ she said, finally managing to step away from his hand. ‘This wasn’t about me. You told me that Michael was incoherent with joy. Well, I want you to imagine how Phoebe felt. After years of tests, hoping, waiting, longing for a baby of her own. The fertility treatment. All those failed IVF cycles. How do you think she felt when the midwife put Posie in her arms?’
‘No one would deny that you did a generous, beautiful thing, Grace.’
‘You thought I was wrong then and you still do.’
‘No… Not you.’
‘Michael, then?’ Now she was confused. Who exactly did he blame for what had happened? ‘Phoebe?’
‘They were desperate. Beyond reason…’ He shook his head. ‘It no longer matters. All I’m saying is that it might have been better if you’d gone away for a while. Afterwards. Cut the cord, not just physically, but emotionally.’
He was so obviously concerned for her that she couldn’t be angry with him.
‘Or were you already planning to do this all over again a year from now so that Posie could have a brother or sister?’
She took a step back. He followed her.
‘Are you really so terrified of getting out there and making a life for yourself that you were ready to settle for having a second-hand family? One without the risk of making a commitment to a relationship? Leaving the comfort of the nest?’
On the other hand…
‘So what if I did,’ she retaliated defiantly. ‘What possible business is it of yours?’
‘It’s my business because, unless either of them left specific guardianship instructions,’ he said, ‘as Michael and Phoebe’s executor, I’ll be the one playing Solomon with Posie’s future.’
She felt the blood drain from her face. ‘What are you saying?’ And then she knew. ‘No. You can’t take her from me. You wouldn’t. She’s mine….’
The words were out before she could stop them.
‘I thought we’d just established that she’s anything but yours. That you have no rights.’
‘No…’ It wasn’t like that. Okay, so maybe he was right. Maybe she’d never given Posie up in the way that a true surrogate would have done. But she was her aunt. Her godmother.
Obviously she was going to be close. Be there for her if ever she needed her. And she needed her now. Then, more fiercely, ‘No!’ she said again, this time with a touch of desperation. ‘You don’t want her! You couldn’t even be bothered to come home for the christening!’
He bit down hard, clearly fighting an angry retort. Then, very calmly, very quietly, he said, ‘Forget me, Grace. Where Posie is concerned, I’m the last person you need worry about.’
Confused, she frowned. ‘So what are you saying?’
Before he could answer, the phone began to ring.
Josh, closer, reached out and unhooked the phone from its cradle on the kitchen wall, responding with a curt, ‘Kingsley.’ He listened impassively for what seemed like forever, then said, ‘We’ll expect you when we see you.’
‘Who was it?’ she asked as he hung up, turned back to face her.
‘My mother. Michael’s mother—’
‘Is she coming to see you?’
‘—Posie’s grandmother,’ he said, his face set, his expression grim, ‘who will be here some time this morning.’
On the point of objecting to his rudeness, she thought better of it. He clearly had something on his mind.
‘Thank you. Now I’ll finish what I was saying when the phone rang.’ He looked so angry, so fierce. ‘When I was telling you that I was the last of your worries.’
‘Last? When did you ever come last in anything?’ she demanded.
Least of all where she was concerned.
‘Last,’ he repeated. ‘I come a long way down the list of next of kin. The only person who’s lower than me on this particular list is you. After my father, my mother, your mother even…’
He let the words hang, giving her time to work it out for herself. And, when she did, her heart stopped beating, her legs buckled and there was a crash as the pack she was carrying fell to the floor.
If Josh hadn’t reached out and caught her, she’d have followed it but, his arms around her, he supported her, held her close.
‘I won’t let it happen,’ he said fiercely, as she subsided weakly against his naked chest, a rock in a world that was disintegrating around her. Stroked his hand over her hair in a gesture meant to calm her. ‘Trust me, Grace. Whatever it takes. You have my promise.’
The temptation to stay in the safety of his arms almost overwhelmed her. To call him on that promise. Leave him to fight her corner. But he wasn’t always going to be around to make things right for her. If there was to be a battle, she would fight for her daughter. But she didn’t think it would be necessary.
‘It’s all right, Josh,’ she said, lifting her cheek from the steady beating of his heart, the warm silk of his skin. ‘They wouldn’t want her,’ she said, looking up at him. ‘They didn’t want us.’
‘No,’ he said, his face grim. ‘But then, neither of us had the legacy of a fine house, a couple of generous life insurance policies and whatever Michael’s partnership in his architect’s practice is worth. Even after the Chancellor has taken his cut in inheritance tax, it’s still going to provide a very nice expense account for anyone who can prove their case for bringing up Posie.’
‘What?’ Then, ‘Are you suggesting any of them would take her just for the money?’
‘There are other factors. My father has a second family. A young wife. Three little girls who would no doubt welcome a baby sister.’
‘But she’s my baby!’ The betraying words flew from her lips and in that instant she knew he’d spoken no more than the truth. She’d given her sister her baby, but she hadn’t been able to totally let go.
‘My mother would, I’m sure, give up her present precarious existence for this house, a steady income. She would, of course, employ a first-class nanny to take care of Posie. Might even offer you the job.’
Grace shook her head. ‘She’s mine,’ she repeated. ‘If it comes to a fight, any court would have to recognise that.’
He shook his head. ‘I spent a long time last night researching this on the Internet. You carried a fertilised egg for your sister but, once you’ve completed the formalities, that’s it. In law you’re no more to Posie than her aunt. Nothing changes that.’
‘No…’ That small word held a world of pain, of loss. First her sister and now this. Then, as his words filtered